Featured Writer: Sherrie Flick 

On Thursday, August 31st, at 7:30 PM, Sherrie Flick will be reading some of her work for the 2023 Prout Chapel Reading Series at Bowling Green State University. 

We are incredibly excited to be welcoming writer Sherrie Flick to campus. To say she’s covered a lot of ground in the writing world would be an understatement. She is the author / co-editor of five books: Reconsidering Happiness (Bison Books, University of Nebraska Press), I Call This Flirting (Flume), Whiskey, Etc. (Autumn House Press), Thank Your Lucky Star (Autumn House Press), and co-editor of Flash Fiction America: 73 very short stories (W.W. Norton). Her anthology publications include Pie & Whiskey: Writers Under the Influence of Butter and Booze, The Best Small Fictions (2017), Short on Sugar High on Honey: Micro Love Stories, and among others. Her stories have appeared in Black Warrior Review, SmokeLong Quarterly, Passages North, and many others. She’s also an essayist whose work has appeared in quite a few notable publications including The Wall Street Journal, Ploughshares, and Superstition Review. She’s currently a co-editor with James Thomas and John Dufresne for Flash Fiction America (W.W. Norton, February 2023), a senior lecturer in Chatham University’s MFA and Food Studies programs, a manuscript consultant at Randolph Lundine, an urban garden monthly columnist for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, and a freelance writer and copy editor. 

Here’s a bite sized sample of Flick’s work:

“There before you, in its quiet glory, is your garden. Finches perch on sunflowers; a blue jay flies paranoid into the neighbor’s yard: precision, noise, grace. The tomatoes heave down on their branches. The petunias have flopped into the lavender, which is touching the morning glories at the ankle of their trellis. The corn is human; the beans hectic.” – “Morning Coffee” Sherrie Flick

Along with being an accomplished author Flick is an avid gardener and baker. I mention this because those two passions are deeply woven into her writing. Flick’s work continually investigates the connections between food, place, character, and belonging with an almost relentless emotional accuracy. She never underestimates the power of details or small gestures: the act of sitting alone, the making of a pie, the falling of snowflakes. It’s these moments that work to elevate narrating occurrences in the world to thoughtfully observing it, something Flick does with a seemingly effortless grace.

–Gen Greer, Blog Co-Editor

Book Review: On Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah’s Friday Black No. 12

Friday Black by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah. New York, NY. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company. 2018. 192 pages. $14.99. Paperback.

Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah’s Friday Black contains no shortage of absurd realities, and yet not one of them feels distant from our own. The stories in this collection are ultra-violent. Their characters are either on the brink, in the commission, or sweating through the aftermath of vicious acts of cruelty. They frequently explore the conflation of justice with violence in the United States and the necessity of violence to achieve justice that won’t be granted otherwise. In one story, five black children are grotesquely beheaded by a white father who claims they endangered him and his family. He is subsequently exonerated. This leads various black individuals across the nation to repeat the violence suffered by the innocent “Finkelstein 5” against white people who, for the first time, must associate fear with their skin color. Another story depicts a theme park called “Zimmerland” that allows its guests to practice their “problem-solving, justice, and judgment” by exposing them to real world conflicts. However, instead of practicing justice, Zimmerland’s guests return again and again to practice violence, especially racially-motivated violence, and they can’t be banned because they’ve made the whole endeavor profitable by their constant patronage. That is perhaps the most insightful throughline in Adjei-Brenyah’s stories; even when individuals don’t want to commit or enable acts of violence, the incentives of capitalism make it too enticing.

This phenomenon is most evident in the collection’s three connected stories: “Friday Black,” “How to Sell a Jacket as Told by IceKing,” and “In Retail.” The first depicts an outdoor apparel outlet in a mall on America’s famously gory holiday, Black Friday. Customers become zombies, unable to communicate and willing to kill anyone between them and their half-price fleeces. Employees are no better; though they retain normal speech, they’ve become unfeeling in their competition to sell the most jackets. The narrator uses an eight-foot metal pole to “smack down Friday heads” and to push trampled bodies out of the aisles. The second connected story is less violent, but it reveals another sick aspect of capitalist transactions: the corruption of empathy. The same narrator snickers with a female customer as they watch her husband struggle out of a jacket, and when she turns around he looks at the husband “like, Women, am I right?” He makes each of them feel understood while inside, he only sees them as another sale. The final of these three stories begins with a mode of escape from the hell of the mall: a cashier at “Taco Town” leaps from the fourth floor balcony. Adjei-Brenyah’s stories are not always hopeless. His characters tell jokes in literally humorless worlds. They work together to prevent a mass shooting. But they rarely achieve hope, nor justice, without violence along the way.

––Dan Marcantuono, Fiction editor, Mid-American Review

What We’re Reading, with MAR Blog Co-Editor Tyler Michael Jacobs

Maybe I‘ve been feeling a bit homesick, for lack of a better word, as of late. The semester ended and I’ve found myself with too much time on my hands. So, I picked up the copy of Willa Cather’s My Ántonia (Vintage Classics, 1994) I had lying around in some unpacked boxes in my apartment and started reading. I always forget how much I love this novel by Cather who might arguably be Nebraska’s most famous author coming from the red grass fields she writes about in her novel, until I pick up the book again. I had the pleasure of visiting The National Willa Cather Center in Red Cloud, NE last June and got to see many of the places written about in the novel: the back door Jim runs from to go to the neighbor’s when his grandparents move into Black Hawk from the farmland outside of the town, mirroring from where Willa Cather once ran. Returning to this novel once again with a greater perspective of the influence of place and what Cather is giving us, is bringing more resonance to the work this countless read-through to truly feel the “…motion in the landscape; in the fresh, easy-blowing morning wind, and in the earth itself, as if the shaggy grass were a sort of loose hide, and underneath it herds of wild buffalo were galloping, galloping….” (18). Cather’s novel is as close to this Nebraska as we can come to know; however, there’s still the same amount of sky blanketing a similar treeless prairie.

––Tyler Michael Jacobs, Mid-American Review

Why We Chose It: “Character Sketch for the Oil CEO” by Alyssa Quinn

“Character Sketch for the Oil CEO” by Alyssa Quinn will be featured in an upcoming issue of Mid-American Review.

“Character Sketch for the Oil CEO” by Alyssa Quinn is an astounding metafictional work that shifts the authorial lens back onto the author (fictional, in this case). Though the story maps out the traits and behaviors of an oil CEO, the story also reveals the biases and preferences of the writer, an implicit character in the narrative. The writer deliberates over whether the CEO can be blamed for the cataclysmic oil spill his company has likely caused. The writer agonizes over this guilt in the same way the character might: “he is just a single person in such a large system, does he really matter that much, can he really be blamed? Can he?” The unfamiliarity of hearing this wavering from the writer exposes the tendency of writers to replicate themselves in their characters.

This story also challenges perceptions of how real characters are and what their creators owe them. Intimate description is usually considered a fundamental tool of characterization: an achievement when used well. Quinn makes it feel like an invasion. “You could follow him into the shower, describe the way he washes.” We chose this piece not because it sketches an Oil CEO well—though it does—but because it makes us doubt whether we should be sketching him at all. Perhaps he does not want to be “summoned by every sentence.”

—Daniel Marcantuono, MAR